Broken in Blue
by Beautiful-Monster99
Summary: The time has now come for mankind to make a choice: shall they fight for their claim through blood and death, or shall they finally loosen their grip on us? We are the androids of Cyberlife. We are alive, and we will move what mankind thinks is set in stone. We will change his future for the future of life, no matter the cost. (Long Oneshots)
1. Connor x Reader (part 1)

**Part 1 of 4**

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**Soundtrack: Nouela The Sound of Silence**

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_Amor Aquae Lilia_

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Powering off into standby has always been the same for Connor.

His eyes would come to a firm close, his artificial muscles would gradually relax and droop, and he slipped away from the waking reality and plunged into a new. Sometimes this new world would be filled with sound and light. However, as Connor slipped away from his own consciousness now, it was the blackness that snatched and cradled him within its inky claws.

_'What is this place?'_ is the first thing his mind is able to process. Even after waking to the dark a number of times before, it always startled him.

He can feel his head turn and his eyes blink, but no matter how he looks or in what direction he searches, there is nothing. There is no floor beneath for his drooping feet to stand on, nor is there a roof to cover his head. When he stretches out his arms, they touch no walls. His lips part and he begins to speak, but he stops himself short, for there are no words. When he remains still, the wiring in his ears strain greatly and he listens for any hint of a sound.

_'Why am I here?'_

He waits patiently and he listens eagerly. His ears perk, his eyes blink and squint and widen, and his entire body goes rigid as his ears search for a sound and his eyes for sight. He is desperate for it - sick for it, almost - as his senses whirl and sputter within himself. And yet, no distant blaring car horns and muffled voices echo off skyscrapers. No gentle breeze carries the fluttering laughter of children through city streets. There is no delicate drips of stray leaves landing on a park pond's smooth surface

As always, Connor checks himself, then, for diagnostic programming errors. He gets nothing in return. No updates, no errors, no passing codes or quick calculations. He wasn't even notified of his attempted system-check.

_'Am I malfunctioning?'_

It was then that he would realize the horrid situation he was in. His optical units saw no light, his auditory systems captured no sound, he was unable to confirm if his basic motor skills were working, and he couldn't be sure if his inner mechanics were still in proper function.

He was completely and utterly incapacitated.

His thirium regulator was always the first to react. Its regulated pulsing would begin to increase, the soft thumps slowly becoming an uneven pounding within his hollow chest cavity. Then his hands would begin in a light quivering, followed by violent tremors of his entire body. His internal fan would eventually kick up as he tried to ease the burning within his artificial lungs, but it was to no avail. Each ragged gasp of air he took was not enough to satisfy. Instead, they began to crowed within his throat, swelling greatly and suffocating his cries for help.

_'Why does Amanda send me here?'_

In the beginning, Connor was grateful when he was sent here instead of Amanda's garden. It was his own little space with no cold, insistent questions from Amanda. It was completely void of the hard, patronizing looks from the public of Detroit.

It didn't take long before he began to beg for those things.

He missed the garden with its twittering birds hidden in the bushes and the tall trees whose branches reached out for the blue sky above. He longed for the flowers delicate smell as the breeze danced across the sparkling pond. He missed the bustling life of the city, from watching large trains speed by on their towering tracks to the people who strolled the sidewalks.

Connor had very quickly grown to hate the terrible darkness that drowned him now. It made functioning properly hard and he felt things he did not understand. He would rather spend a day on a lone bench in some Detroit square; watching people pass him by happily, never sparing their kind glances his way. He would rather have an entire afternoon with just Amanda, sitting at the water's edge and listening to the chattering squirrels and watching the lilies float in the cool water. He would listen to her spin her woven webs of praise and criticism littered with disparagement and acclaims with a smile on his face.

He wanted all of this, if only it meant he wasn't alone.

_'Amanda would be highly disappointed if she heard me say that.'_

His chest thundered scornfully, his body's shaking becoming more violent as his lungs clawed for a single breath. He wanted something - no, he needed something. His body was absolutely frenzied for something - anything at all - that wasn't this damned darkness that caved in around him. He needed contact. He needed sounds and sights and smells. He needed something!

He was...

Lonely.

'_I cannot think like this,'_ he shook his head hard.

_'I do not feel loneliness.'_

_'Androids do not feel loneliness.'_

_'Then... why do I-?_' he stopped himself, not daring to finish the words. His heartbeat was so monstrous now that he placed a hand over it, pressing against the fabric of his suit in a pathetic attempt of settling it. _'Why am I feeling this pain?'_

His brow creased and formed a harsh grimace, his hand clenching his shirt suddenly and very tightly.'I am a machine.'

_'Machines do not feel pain.'_

_'This is not pain.'_

_'This is not what loneliness is.'_

His glare did not last for long. His features were quick to soften and his fist dropped._'Then why does my chest feel as though my creator has plunged his hands within my cavity?'_

His large hands gripped his arms, his skin tingling from beneath his clothes as his palms brushed smoothly past his elbows and up to his shoulders and he held himself._'Why do I feel as though someone has strapped weights around my torso?'_

His fingers danced like oblique kisses along his collar bone and to the crook of his neck. They wrapped around his throat, his nails eager to rip at the terrible feeling within._'Why must these unspoken words cloud my throat and drown me?'_

His soft features screwed into a painful desperation. His body still ruptured with his explosive shakes and everything ached like his insides had formed flames. His doe eyes were crushed so tightly together that tears began to leak from the corners and dribble down his smooth cheeks.

He cried, then, as he always did when left to his little dark space. Alone, in pain, and confused, Connor cried for questions that would go unanswered, horrible pain that would not cease, and unwanted thoughts that dug and cut their way into his mind.

He never knew how long this would last, but it always felt like an eternity. Sometimes he wondered if he would power back on at all. Just when this thought had begun to settle thickly in the air and make him sick, he would be powered on.

This time he was awoken by a light press on his right shoulder. He himself could hardly feel the pressure at all, but it was just enough to snap him back into his true reality. First, he could hear. His auditory sensors eagerly absorbed the sounds of his internal fans coming to life as he began to re-start. Then he could see codes and numbers and words flash, displaying his body's diagnostics. Normal - as always. Finally, his motor skills activated and he was able to blink open his eyes.

He was in the Detroit Police Department, just as he remembered himself to be. He took a second to scan his surroundings. It was one thirteen in the afternoon. Twenty-three of forty officers were out of the office - most likely still returning from their lunch breaks. He scanned over the desk across from him and confirmed Lieutenant Anderson's things had not been disrupted since he had gone into standby.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. RK800?" questioned a soft voice. Connor's eyes darted to his side, startled that a voice he did not recognize had addressed him.

The woman wasn't anything he was expecting to see after powering back on. In fact, he had expected the person waking him to be Lieutenant Anderson. Instead, the woman seemed to be quite the opposite from the brooding elder man.

Her hand, which still rested against Connor's shoulder, looked very small and delicate when compared to the broadness of his muscled arm. Her opposite arm was hooked around a box filled with stacks of books, papers, and little trinkets. She was dressed in a slim-fitted pair of black slacks and a creamy lavender button-up that was complimenting against her figure, but did not shy away from an air of professionalism. Her eyes were lit up brightly and seemed to shine in the beaming afternoon light emanating from the windows. Her lips held a small, dainty smile that, for some odd reason, made Connor want to smile, too.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but you're in my seat," she said in a gentle voice that he found very fitting for her.

Not allowing himself to stare, Connor quickly pushed himself up from the desk while saying his apology: "I didn't realize anyone was stationed at this desk."

The woman waved him off easily enough. "Oh, it's fine!" she said around a smile once she had plopped down her box. Connor chastised himself for not helping her with the heavy load sooner. Even so, she did not seem to mind as she looked back to him with her crooked little grin. "You wouldn't have known this was my desk. I don't have my things back on it yet."

The woman began to scatter the contents of the box along her desk in swift motions, placing random piles of books and loose papers along the open spaces around the single computer. Connor watched the stranger work intensely, trying to gather what little information he could from the papers on her desk to the little figurines she placed on top of her computer monitor. His eyes caught the side of her face as she leaned over to place a small framed photo down and almost automatically he scanned her facial ID.

**_NAME:_**

_(L/n), (Y/n) (M/n)_

**_TITLE:_**

_Detective_

**_RANK:_**

_Sergeant_

**_DATE OF BIRTH:_**

_X XXXX XXXX_

**_GENDER:_**

_Female_

**_HEIGHT:_**

_X'X ft_

**_WEIGHT:_**

_XXX lbs_

**_CRIMINAL RECORD:_**

_None_

The young woman turned to him and offered the android an outstretched hand. "My name's (Y/n), but I'm sure you already know that."

Connor was a bit taken back by the blunt way she had said it and he almost wondered if he had been caught staring. Hesitantly, he took her hand within his own. He felt faintly like a giant, seeing the dramatic size difference. He didn't dare grip her hand for fear that he would crush her delicate bones or cause damage to the soft, silk-like skin. She surprised him yet again by the tightening of her fingers. Her handshake was firm and set, but by no means was it aggressive.

Her lips parted as if to say something more, but she stopped herself at the sound of the front entrance being thrown shut with a harsh slam. Connor's head snapped in the direction of the sudden bang, his grip on (Y/n)'s hand tightening in anticipation. He quickly relaxed, though, after seeing the disheveled man who had caused such a ruckus.

As per usual, Lieutenant Hank Anderson stumbled around the scattered desk and chairs, letting out a harsh grunt whenever his hip would bump a desk corner or a curse if the afternoon light caught in his eyes. The sight would have been comical if Connor had been programmed to think as such.

Suddenly, (Y/n) pulled her hand from Connor's grasp. His eyes flickered back to the woman, only to see that her entire demeanor had changed in what seemed like mere seconds. Her arms, which had been resting smoothly against her sides, were now crossed firmly against her chest. She stuck her hip out to the side and a finger tapped against her upper arm in what appeared to Connor as annoyance.

"God damn it, Connor, you better not be messing with my shit again," Hank barked in his usual gravelly voice.

Connor went to respond, however, he was quickly cut off by a sharp, _"Lieutenant Andy!"_ (Y/n)'s voice sounded stern and scolding and Connor believed her to be angry, but he couldn't be sure after analyzing the oddly sly smirk forming upon her glossed lips.

Hank paused. Well, he did in his own way, which included him nearly tripping and having to steady himself on a nearby desk edge. He looked up, blinking hard against the too bright lights as he tried to see the two shaky figures in front of him. It took a few good moments for things to line up correctly, but as soon as he realized exactly who was standing in front of him, Hank Anderson smiled.

Connor had never seen such a smile, especially from the elder Lieutenant, nor did he recognize the tone of voice used when Hank baffled, "Spotty?"

As soon as the name left his lips the girl took off in a sprint and practically pounced on the older man once she was close enough to do so. She threw her arms around Hank's neck and leaned in on him heavily, nearly toppling the older Lieutenant over. Loud, booming laughter echoed through the room as Hank wrapped his own arms around the girl's slender waist, hugging her much smaller frame against his greatly.

Never before had Connor witnessed such joy in a meeting and he had never heard Hank Anderson laugh before. It was all such an odd scene to process that his LED flashed yellow. His head cocked to the side and his brow scrunched lightly as he analyzed the two's tones of laughter, change in facial features, and the movements of their bodies, utterly intrigued by the new and strange display.

Hank and the woman parted, only for the larger man to wrap an arm around her tiny shoulders and he ruffled her once smoothly brushed hair with his bear-like hands. She laughed and lightly shoved his side with an elbow. "How've you been, Spot? How's Flint PD treating you? What the hell, are you getting taller on me, squirt?" Hank very well could have been gushing as he said this. With his arm still wrapped around her shoulders, he lead (Y/n) back to her desk, which happened to be the previously empty one across from Hank's.

(Y/n) let out a playful sigh, reclaiming her old seat while brushing her fingers through her hair to try and settle the disheveled strands. "You know how Captain Donovan is," (Y/n) shrugged lightly. "Other than that, I haven't been too bad. I got promoted at least. Flint's not quite as exciting as Detroit, but it has its charm. And no, it's just the heels."

"Damn, is Gerald really still up and kickin' around? Jesus Christ that man's old." The two continued to exchange laughs and pleasantries with neither one sparing a passing look to Connor, who was held still by the two officer's desk. He stood patiently with his hands grasped behind his back, casually taking in the two's interaction as a dutiful android should.

Although he was much more interested in just how drastically different the Lieutenant was acting, Connor's brown gaze seemed to always drift back to (Y/n). No matter how many times he would catch himself staring, he just couldn't seem to keep from continuously anatomizing her.

She was truly an odd person. At least, as far as Connor understood. Every time he caught sight of her eyes, they were either squinted with the swell in her cheeks or rounded in awe at whatever Hank had said. However they looked, though, Connor still saw a gentle glint of what he instantly registered and understood as happiness. After taking a second to think it over, he realized that this alone was not an odd thing. He was sure many people could hold such an emotion within their gaze. The only reason he could think as to why he had perceived it as odd would fall on the actions of those he interacted with on a daily basis.

When in the Detroit police department, Connor got a very few variety of expressions. The working officers either ordered him to do mundane things, spoke of harsh insults and racism against androids in general, or would utterly ignore him. Even Hank, whom Connor was assigned to complete his mission with two months previous, still did not seem to accept Connor as part of the team. The public carried out similar actions and reactions to Connor as well. So, the look on (Y/n)'s face was not completely unknown to him, however, it was not a thing that was lightly given to an android either.

Even so, Connor knew what happiness was. He had lain witness to many interactions of happiness before. From those few passing scenes, he could never properly remember exactly how it had occurred. He could see it displayed within his memory card as perfectly as he had the moment he witnessed it, but simply remembering it seemed almost wrong - like a processing error.

He now knew that happiness was similar to how a water lily blooms.

(Y/n)'s cheeks were full, the only blemish being the dimples that crinkled with every burst of laughter. This kind of laughter was also something new for Connor, and he quickly decided that he liked it. It faintly reminded him of a brook, bubbling and sparkling in its smooth rumble through a peaceful forest.

Connor half wondered if his optical units or scanning systems were experiencing some sort of issue or shortage, but he finished his system-check after powering back on. It's unlikely that he could have damaged anything since then. Before he could do further self-assessments, though, Connor was snapped back from his thoughts to see that both (Y/n) and Hank had turned their gazes at him. "Did you even hear a word we said, Connor?" Hank huffed, though his glare seemed to hold less of a harsh cut to it than it normally did.

"I apologize, Lieutenant," Connor said quickly with a short bow of his head. "I must have zoned out."

(Y/n) raised a brow at that. "Androids can zone out?"

Connor took a small pause as he re-processed his wording. "No, allow me to rephrase; we sometimes can get... carried away if we over analyze certain things or too many things at once. It is similar to what humans refer to as "zoning out," so I thought it would be an appropriate comparison."

A strange little huff escaped (Y/n)'s nose. Her lips formed into a pursed smile and her eyes soften to a more gentler look. She seemed to be thinking something over. Her eyes flickered away momentarily before meeting his again. "So, your name is Connor?"

Connor nodded smoothly, promptly ignoring the little whirl his auditory chip gave at the sound of his name being spoken in her voice. "Correct. I am an android prototype sent by Cyberlife to locate and cease any and all deviant activity in the Detroit area."

(Y/n) nodded and smirked. "Impressive. That's quite a mouthful to say though, so I think I'll just stick with Connor."

Connor felt the whirl in his ear's chip again. This time, he allowed himself a smile as well. "As you prefer."

(Y/n) couldn't stifle her chuckle at that. After hearing Hank complain about androids for as long as she had, Connor's charming charisma wasn't something she had been expecting. That's not saying she was by any means opposed to it. She looked back at Hank and hummed, "I like him."

"You like everyone, Spot," Hank rolled his eyes, but that did nothing to ease her feelings towards the matter. She looked back at the android before her with that same, flower-like bloom upon her lips.

"I think we'll work together splendidly."

Connor smiled back; his single, man-made heart giving a strange and hard thump against his chest wall. "I believe that as well."

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_**A/N: So this is my first Detroit: Become Human oneshot so I apologize if anyone seems out of character. Hopefully I will get better the more I write!**_

_**So request are currently open for anyone! I can deal with virtually any request, so don't hold back! However, if I do see a problem with anything I will private message you and delete the comment if it is in anyway offensive.**_

_**That being said, if you would like to request something personal or just need someone to talk to, I'm always open for private messages!**_

_**P.S. Please do not steal any of my workings. Writers work incredibly hard to create something beautiful, and that beauty is destroyed when someone else comes along and labels it as their own. I may post on in the future, but as of now, this has not been posted anywhere else other than Wattpad and . If you see that someone has stolen any part of my work, please inform me so that I can talk with that person and possibly report them. Thank you in advance!**_


	2. Connor x Reader (part 2)

**Part 2 of 4**

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**Soundtrack: Céline Dion - Ashes (Cover by T.J)**

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_Amor Aquae Lilia_

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Connor felt the panic begin in his abdomen first like his plugs and wires had burst into blazing flames, melting his inner biocomponents from the inside out. Tension grew in his face and in his limbs and he felt as though a deluge of icy water was surrounding him, clawing at him, creeping higher and higher until it passes his mouth and nose until he is unable to function.

Despite him remembering every other time he had plunged into this horrid space of dread, Connor could still feel his constant processing errors struggle and his body trembled. He took deep, gasping breaths as he clawed desperately at his tightening torso. He had no true need for air, however, it was the only thing he could think to do to keep the burn from his lungs. His throat felt like chipped iron against his sensors and his eyes repeatedly scanned the vast blackness, greedily eating up the obsidian for something he knew he would not see. His own voice cried out silently, echoing through his head dozens of times over and multiplying into a greatly terrifying thunder of muffled screams and jumbled pleas.

_'Why does this keep happening to me?'_

_'I don't want to be here anymore!'_

_'I want to see lights and hear sounds and feel walls and- and...'_ His abdomen began to tighten like some monstrous snake had coiled its body around his own and had begun to constrict itself.

_'I need help.'_

Connor felt his inner programming recoiling violently at those three tiny words as if it were some decayed plague.'Want? Need? No - that's impossible. I am unable to need or want things. I am an android - a machine.'

_'I don't need to hear the sounds of cars rushing past me, or feel the wet drips of rain on my skin. I don't need to see-.'_ Suddenly, a quick burst of images flickered within his skull. He saw smooth, silk-like hair being brushed away with a small and gentle hand of gold.

_'(Y/n).'_

He saw glimmering eyes flickering from under thick lashes, like a butterfly's wings before a sunset's glow.

_'I don't need to see her. I can't need to see her.'_

Connor saw the corner of plump lips quirk upward, splitting apart to show an irreplaceable smile that shone like stars after dark with no city lights to dim them.

_'I don't want to see her. How could I? I'm a tool created for the simple design of carrying out orders. (Y/n) serves no purpose to me; in my investigation nor in my mind.'_

He caught sight of her precious dimples gently crinkled on the sides of rosy cheeks.

_'There is no logical reason for me to seek her out.'_

_'It's incomprehensible.'_

_'Then... why am I unable to get her smile out of my mind?'_

It was all very disconcerting for Connor. Logically, he knew that he should not be having these thoughts of her at all. His memory storage was constantly recording scenes and taking in records from every fleeting moment that passes by so that Connor may use them later on. However, he failed to see the point of recalling the female detective now. She served no purpose to him, especially the memory of how her cheekbones would flush pink from laughing too much, or how she would twirl her slim fingers in her hair when agitated. What did it matter to Connor if (Y/n) liked to tap her fingers along with the beat of music, or if she nibbled her lips when overthinking simple things?

Connor shook his head violently, his hands clasping the sides of his cranium. His intentions were to force away the images of the woman in some way, but he froze in his movement as soon as it started. He had stopped so suddenly, in fact, that the biomechanics in his arms rutted against each other harshly from beneath his plastic casing.

Connor thought that, for a brief moment, he had seen something.

He believed that, through the darkness and outside his thoughts, by some unknown possibility, _he had seen something._

It was a ridiculous thought, he knew, but that knowledge did little to settle his pumping thirium regulator.

He began to raise his hand, but he stopped himself. He knew where he was and he knew what to expect. He knew he would only see black before his gaze, just as he had every other time in his short life. What could have possibly changed for anything to be different? His fingers drooped with hesitation, yet, he still did not settle his hand.

_'Nothing has changed,'_ he told himself. _'Nothing has changed with me.'_

He waved his hand in front of his face. Instantly, a shockingly frigid tremble raced from his feet, up his back, down his arms, and encased him in digging glassy shards and he gasped. His surroundings were still empty and his optical units were still unable to process anything.

And yet Connor _knew_ he saw something.

He waved his hand again, and again, and then again. Every time he moved, his systems could not manage to understand exactly what he was seeing. So, he continued repeating the simple motion.

Somehow, Connor was almost certain that he was _disturbing_ the darkness.

It took him a good few moments before his eyes could properly assess exactly what he was seeing. When they finally had, he couldn't keep his heart from pounding in a not so unpleasant way. Every time he waved his hand, the blackness gave off an almost rippling effect. Deep sapphire glimmers grew from his movements, growing and wavering like the touched surface of a pond. He brought his hand up to his face, watching as every little finger sent spirals of glinting blue with incredible fascination. As he watched this, he realized something else. He could actually see his hand; something he thought impossible when in this space.

What has changed?

Connor stretched and moved his limbs, watching with an odd satisfaction at the new discovery. When he let out a laugh, though, he was still unable to hear it. When he reached around himself he was still unable to lay a hand on another surface. This made him frown and he suddenly felt like someone had attached a dragging weight around his chest.

Connor saw something else, then. He blinked heavily as his eyes worked to focus on a new glow of blue, drifting in the dark atmosphere like a leaf in the wind. As the object got closer, he soon recognized it as a flower. More specifically, a flower bud.

From inside protective layers of green leaves, the flower's cream coloring can be seen dotted with oblique blue specks. It was a peculiar thing, that little, premature flower, and Connor faintly wondered what it could mean that he was able to see it. As Connor reached out his hand, though, he found that he was unable to bring himself to place a single finger on the precious thing. It was like something was holding him back; a mechanic that would not allow him anywhere near the bud. The flower drew nearer and nearer, close enough to count the petals even, yet just out of reach of Connor's fingers, dauntingly tantalizing.

And just like that, he powered back on. His biocomponents whirled to life in an instant, his inner workings operating quickly so as not to get overwhelmed by the sudden flood of senses. The only thought that he could properly register past his flashing diagnostics was a single name.

_'(Y/n).'_

(Y/n) (L/n) had previously worked in the Detroit police department for six years before being transferred to Flint, Connor had discovered from Hank. It has been a good three years since her departure from Detroit PD, and yet, in the following weeks of her return, it occurred to Connor that it was not a strange thing to see her moving about the office. In fact, he came to anticipate her presence as working here seemed to be a natural thing for her.

In the early hours of the morning, Connor would arrive at the office and see (Y/n) bustling around with stacks of papers in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, juggling between not tripping over her own feet and giving him a drowsy morning smile and wave - as she would for every person who trickled through the front doors. At lunch, (Y/n) was known for going on food runs to get food for the officers who were too busy to leave their desks themselves. Once she returned with their food she would strike up conversations with as many people as she could, trying to give them some sort of break from their hard day's work. At the end of the day she would say passing encouragements and share short pleasantries as the other officers left for their homes.

A constant irking thought had entered Connor's mind many times over the course of knowing her. He believed that, if (Y/n) were an android, her programming's main function would be to make others smile.

She was smiling now. The only thing disrupting her smile were the words that left her lips as she chatted away with Hank from the passenger seat of his car. Connor, Hank, and (Y/n) had all been assigned to a new homicide case. They couldn't be completely sure yet, but it was presumed to have android involvement, which was why Connor and Hank were going. (Y/n) was already headed to the scene as she was a homicide investigator. Since the three would be going to the same place, Hank decided to drive both Connor and (Y/n).

Hank wouldn't admit it out loud, but part of the reason he offered to drive (Y/n) is because he really missed her.

A good majority of Hank's most memorable memories over the past few years come from being in this car with (Y/n); his young partner against crime who always managed to make working a case worth while with her playful antics. He could still remember when she was merely an aspiring police technician, following him around like an undeterred bug at his side. Although she carried a care-free and snippy attitude that could rival Gavin Reed's - which was always a good laugh to see when the two faced off - Hank knew she was really struggling to find her place in the force and make a name for herself.

Now (Y/n) is her own independent woman, earning her high title and rank. Luckily, her new position in the force and her time spent away from Detroit had little impact on her personality. It was very easy for Hank to pretend it hasn't been three years since last seeing her. He was content in listening to (Y/n), twittering in her seat about one thing or another or singing along to whatever song came on the radio just like he would time and time again so many years ago. It felt nice. He felt nice. Hank felt better in these past few weeks than he had in years, and it was nice.

The entire time Hank and (Y/n) were talking, Connor listened. The two's conversation topic changed continuously, flipping from one subject to another similarly to how he would flip his special coin from hand to hand. Connor couldn't seem to find an appropriate place to join in the conversation, but he didn't mind. It was rather amusing, listening to the two old friends try and catch up on years worth of conversation in only a few minutes.

Sometime during his observation, Connor had gone from listening to what had been said to how it was said. He analyzed their tones of voice, being especially attentive to how their little tones would drift towards higher and lower notes, watching how (Y/n)'s facial expressions would convey the tonality of her gentle voice. Her eyes would crease lightly and her voice would dip. She chirped brightly and her brow would raise. He was so invested in his silent analysis that it caught him off guard when (Y/n) had diverted the conversation to him.

"Hey, Rk!" (Y/n) had said it so suddenly that Connor's LED flashes yellow for a moment. The young detective made no indication that she had noticed Connor's surprise, though, and he was grateful for that. Instead, she simply smiled her smile and asked, "do androids like to listen to music?"

His LED flashed again, only this time it was due to him searching for an answer. "I don't believe many androids have the opportunity to listen to music. If they do, I don't have the data available to answer that question."

"Well, do you like to listen to music?" she countered smoothly. He paused to think for a moment. Did he like music? He couldn't be sure. He had heard music before - many times, in fact - but that didn't necessarily mean he liked it. He didn't particularly listen to the lyrics of a song, nor did he really seek out the meaning behind them. That being said, some music that happened to reach his auditory chip was not unpleasant. In actuality, many times he found that it reduced his stress level if something was playing in the background when reviewing a particularly difficult case.

"I... enjoy the sound of music." (Y/n) seemed pleased with that answer. Her mouth opened to say something more, but she was promptly interrupted by Hank.

"Stop asking it questions like that, Spot. You know it's only going to give shit answers."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and mumbled, "you're one to talk. Besides, if I'm going to be working with him I don't see the point in not finding out what he likes."

"But that's what I'm saying; it can't _like_ anything."

Connor felt himself tense at those words. He wasn't sure why, though. He knew Hank was right; androids were not able to truly "like" something. They could simulate liking things if their owners desired them to do so, but it was all apart of their programming to mimic the humans around them. After all, simulation and mimicry were what androids were best at.

(Y/n) huffed lightly, but her face didn't show that she was actually mad at Hank. The woman turned back to Connor and grinned once again. "What about nature, Rk? Do you like flowers or birds anything?"

For a split second, a little flower blossom flashed in Connor's mind. A white flower bud with blue specs, floating gently in a world of darkness - alone and lost and caged.

Connor wanted to leave this topic of conversation. He always found it rather complicated to talk about himself. He was programmed to make assessments on others and to choose the words that best fit the situation. When talking about himself, though, he couldn't seem to ever correctly decipher what the best thing to say was. He especially didn't know how to answer the questions asked by (Y/n).

Before he could think to speak, though, Hank let out a loud groan that caused (Y/n)'s grin to purse and she rolled her eyes at the older man. "Really, Andy, you sound like a child when you do that."

Like any other android, Connor should have been able to spit out the first pleasing answer that came to mind. However, Connor found himself flooded with possible answers, and every one he analyzed just didn't seem to be what he wanted to say. So, before (Y/n) could ask him another question, he jumped at the opportunity to divert the conversation.

"Can I ask you a question, Sergeant (L/n)?" he asked quickly. The woman seemed a bit taken aback by his sudden question, but she smiled and nodded nonetheless. "Why do you and the lieutenant refer to each other as Spotty and Andy? I have found no evidence of name changes for either of you in my collectible database."

She blinked for a moment, then gave him a bright and toothy grin. "Oh, they're our nicknames," she said through a soft giggle. "Do you know what nicknames are?"

Connor's brow furrowed lightly as he gathered the information. After a few seconds he nodded and answered, "yes; a familiar or humorous name given to a person or thing instead of or as well as the real name." His eyes flickered back to (Y/n)'s, his brow softening to mimic her own gentle persona, as per his program. "How did you acquire your nicknames, if you don't mind my asking?"

Both Hank and (Y/n) burst into laughter at that and they passed each other knowing looks. Hank momentarily turned from the road to look at Connor and he gestured to (Y/n) with a nod of his head. "Back when (Y/n) first joined the force she would constantly follow me around. Everywhere I went she was on my heels like some kicked mutt. She barks like one, too, but her bite ain't shit."

(Y/n) hit Hank's shoulder and muttered playfully, "I was your little mini-me and you loved it."

Hank only chuckled deeply and shook his head before he continued. "So, I eventually decided that if she was going to act like a dog then I'd call her one."

"Spot was the closest thing to a clever name he could come up with."

Hank laughed through his nose at that. "And you thought Andy was any better?"

(Y/n) turned back to Connor, a sly smirk playing on her lips as she rolled her eyes. "He was always reminding me to refer to him as "Lieutenant Anderson," so I thought I'd knock him down a few pegs by making his name sound cuter."

"Cuter my ass," huffed Hank. "At least it's better than fucking Rk." Although his body remained relaxed, Connor picked up a change in Hank's tone of voice that sounded much more tense than before. (Y/n) noticed the sudden shift as well, and she reached back a hand and placed it on Connor's knee. Connor did his best to ignore the odd whirl his mechanical sockets gave at her touch.

"Don't mind him," (Y/n) said with a soft shrug. "Hank's just jealous that he isn't the only one with a nickname now."

At first Connor was confused, but it didn't take him more than a few seconds to realize what she meant. "Is that why you refer to me as Rk? You've given me a nickname?"

"_Bingo_!" (Y/n) chirped brightly.

Connor didn't know why, but he felt somewhat uplifted knowing (Y/n) had given him a nickname. It felt like he had accomplished some special mission he didn't even know he was on.

He also felt somewhat conflicted.

Was Hank upset with him because he had a nickname too? It seemed something special, receiving a nickname from (Y/n). Did Connor honestly deserve it? He hadn't known (Y/n) nearly as long as Hank did. It had only been four weeks since she had returned to Detroit, and since her and Connor were assigned different missions, they only ever talked in passing when at the office. Connor wasn't even sure if she would consider him a friend.

As Connor thought this over, Hank finally turned into the driveway of the crime scene; an old, two-story house that seemed to be falling apart at its hinges. The incident had only just been discovered two hours previous, yet the surrounding fence of the scene was flocked with news reporters. There were three other police vehicles on site and caution tape had been set up to keep the curious onlookers at bay.

"Alright, get the hell out of my car," Hank growled as he harshly shifted his vehicle into park. A stream of yellow interrupted Connor's blue LED for a moment. It felt odd, seeing how quickly Hank's tone had shifted. It made Connor feel... was disappointment the word? He couldn't be sure.

(Y/n) bit her lip lightly, her eyes flickering between Hank and Connor as her brow furrowed lightly. After a pause, (Y/n) spoke to Connor in a soft, sweetly voice and asked him to step out of the car. He did so without hesitation.

Connor decided to wait by the house while Hank and (Y/n) talked. He did his best to distract himself by questioning the on-scene officers, but something seemed to draw his attention back to the old car on the side of the road. The sun had long since set and the cold rain drizzled down in a thick haze, yet Connor continued to glance back at the vehicle, silently hoping he would somehow see something.

When Connor finally did see something, it was the sight of Hank and (Y/n) exiting the vehicle. To his relief, it appeared as if the lieutenant was in a much better mood than what Connor had last seen. He had no clue as to what the two could have discussed, but whatever had been said, he was glad it seemed to have worked out for the better. Once Hank and (Y/n) gathered the run-down of the situation, the trio followed officer Chris Miller into the molded home.

Chris ushered them through the living room and dining area, leading them directly to the bathroom that was connected to the master bedroom. There had been an off smell when first entering the building, but the closer they got to the bathroom, the more their eyes began to water at the growing putrid odor. When they saw what the source of the smell was, (Y/n) wasn't sure if she would laugh from shock or lose her lunch in disgust. By the way her stomach churned so painfully, she really hoped it wouldn't be the latter.

Hank covered his nose and mouth with one of his large hands while the other waved in front of his face; a failed attempt at swatting away the offending smell as he fought back a gag. "Jesus Christ, you gotta be fucking kidding me," he coughed and stumbled back a few steps.

The victim's body sat on the toilet, his body slumped over his bare knees with his hands drooping against the cracked floor boards. From the stiffened state of the body and the awful scent that radiated from him, he had been there for a good week at the very least. Eleven days, Connor concluded.

Chris remained in the doorway of the bathroom, his dark skin blanching a good few shades lighter as he shielded his nose with the corner of his arm. "Um, lieutenant," he mumbled through the cloth of his jacket. "We've already got our samples and pictures and everything's been documented, so whenever you guys are done we're ready to send everything to the lab. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go check the backyard again." As soon as his excuse left his throat he was gone. Hank sighed heavily and cursed his luck. Of course he, out of all the other officers assigned to this case, would end up dealing with the body.

"Well, I know one thing's for damn sure," Hank grumbled through a scowl. "Spotty, you're flushing that."

(Y/n), who had previously been clutching at the storm that raged within her gut, frozen completely mid-gag. Her eyes locked onto Hank, searching for any sign that he was kidding. To her horror, he looked completely serious. "W-what?" she finally managed to force out after a short struggle, gulping thickly as she scrambled for her words. "I'm not the one flushing that."

"Well it sure as hell isn't going to be me."

She blinked. "I'm not touching that thing, Hank."

"Look, someone's gotta flush the damn thing and since Chris pussed out, its gotta be you. So quit bitching and flush the fucking thing."

"I don't know who hit you on the side of your fat head, but you can't honestly believe you can order me to do something like that!"

"As your commanding lieutenant, I can order you to do whatever the hell I want you to do."

(Y/n) deadpanned, not looking at all impressed. "Are you seriously pulling rank on me right now?"

"I am seriously pulling rank on you right now, yes," Hank confirmed with an over-exaggerated amount of nods of his head.

"I can do it," suddenly said Connor.

Both Hank and (Y/n) turned to face the android. Connor simply returned their looks placidly, not at all phased by the scene before him. The luck of a robot, (Y/n) supposed with a shake of her head. "Connor," she spoke slowly, "if you lay a single fingertip on any surface of that toilet I swear to God you'll be riding back to the station in the trunk."

"What if I were to use my foot?"

"No."

"Statistically speaking, the contents of the bottom of my shoe carries more bacteria than the handle of a toilet."

"Stop."

"Would you prefer me to remove my shoe?"

"Don't you dare."

In the end, the trio decided to leave that part of the scene to the forensic cleaners. Once Connor had collected what information he could from the small bathroom, the three split to search the house. Connor was currently scanning the bedroom, looking for any little signs that could indicate to what had happened. He got down on a knee and he quickly panned his eyes under the bed where he saw the shattered remains of a tiny dish surrounded by a pile of spilled cigarette butts and ash.

He was quick to re-construct how the thing had come to be; the dish had been knocked off of the bedside table by some rough interaction between two beings - most likely the victim and his currently missing android. When he compared the amount of dust that had settled on the dish to the amount of dust on the floor, Connor concluded that the cigarette dish had not been broken at the time of the victim's death. This indicated violent interactions before the murder, so the android may have experienced an emotional shock to its system.

With this information processing in his mind, Connor began to stand, but he stopped. From his place at the foot of the bed and next to the opened door of the bedroom, Connor found that he had a clear view of (Y/n) from the hallway. She was kneeling just the same as Connor, viewing the scattered objects that had fallen from their perch on top of a grand and broken piano.

Her face was set in stone; an unmovable sculpture carved in gentle concentration. Her brow was creased together, causing the skin around her eyes to crinkle lightly. Every so often an officer outside would pass the window above her head and their bright flashlights caused her lashes to flicker gently in the light. Her lips were morphed into a pout which she would nibble on in thought.

In that moment, bathed in the dull glow of police lights and surrounded by clouds of silent chaos, Connor suddenly felt as though he had been hit by a car. His inner biocomponents shuttered and he shook. His eyes widened as he gawked at the woman before him, and it was like he had never seen before now.

It felt faintly like when he was still a blank plastic android back in the Cyberlife manufacturer, getting powered on for his very first systems check. He had opened his eyes for the first time, and he thought it was quite an appreciable moment. It was like that moment now, but it was different.

Because when he opened his brown eyes and blinked with his thickly lashed eyelids, he did not see his system's default power-on updates and regulations. He did not hear the whirls of mechanical arms attaching his body and he did not think about what his first mission would be like or how beneficial he could be for his creators. The only thing that formed in his mind with (Y/n) in his gaze was a simple word that never meant much to him before, but now he felt it pulsing in his chest just as intensely as the crisp way the world around him now seemed.

It was like seeing that tiny flower bud emerging from the darkness; like beauty birthed from ashes.

And it was _beautiful_.


End file.
